Of Monsters & Men
by RPGgirl514
Summary: "Even if she made it out of this mess alive, Gilneas would not be the city she remembered." Gilneas: A young hunter must examine her own humanity when she is turned into the very beasts she hunts, and come to terms with the destruction of her home, family, and life as she knows it. Second in the "Strangers in a Strange Land" series.


An outsider might have found the gloominess of Silverpine Forest foreboding, but Adrielle was comforted by the familiarity of it. The fog crept in as twilight waned, the tops of the tall silverpines disappearing into the overcast night sky. This time of year, the scrawny boughs were laden down with the burgundy and silver berries that gave them their names, but much of the area had been deforested or set aflame by both Forsaken and Gilneans alike in the midst of the conflict. The burnt skeletons of the silverpines were a sad testament to the state of her homeland.

Adrielle shivered. A chill had sunk into her bones, and she tucked her cloak in tighter around herself as she huddled closer to the small fire.

She knew it was reckless, to light a fire so close to the Forsaken battle front. On the other side of the rocky hill where she had made camp were scores of crude catapults and undead soldiers. Adrielle had meant to complete her scouting mission and return to Gilneas by nightfall, but she had been forced to remain in the forest when a small squad of Forsaken had mounted an assault on the gate. With all the scuffles and hostile forays as of late, King Greymane had instituted a sunset curfew that was strictly enforced. _No one gets in, no one gets out._ Adrielle supposed it would only get worse now that the rumors had started. Beasts that walked like men, in addition to the constant threat of the Scourge? Adrielle would be lucky if she could hunt outside the city at all anymore.

"Better get used to eating rat and pigeon, Mort," she said to the hound curled up at her feet.

A stiff wind picked up, sending sparks flying into the air as her fire sputtered out. Adrielle cursed and groped in her pocket for her flint.

A crow cawed overhead. Adrielle started and dropped her flint. Mort whined uneasily where he lay by the smoldering remains of the fire.

"What is it, boy?" she asked in a low voice. "Undead?" The mastiff's ears perked up, and he gave a low woof, his tail flopping nervously. Adrielle gave up on the flint, letting her eyes adjust to the shadows. She slowly reached for her gun, propped on the stump beside her.

The only warning she got was Mort bounding forward, barking wildly, before the Forsaken were upon them. Adrielle sprang to her feet and brought her rifle up to her shoulder, taking aim.

"Mort, down!" she bellowed, and fired. They had been hunting together since he was a pup and he obeyed her commands almost before she voiced them.

Adrielle fired three rounds in quick succession, her aim impeccable. Even in the dark she hit the first two undead in the head - the most sure way to ensure that what was dead _stayed _dead - and the third in the shoulder, which distracted it long enough for Mort to bowl it over and rip out its rotting throat.

With the Forsaken threat taken care of for the moment, Adrielle paused, her ears ringing from the blast of her rifle. Mort panted at her side.

"It's not safe here, Mort," she said, scratching his head. "We should head back. We can camp outside the gates if we have to."

Adrielle used a fallen limb to set the Forsaken corpses aflame and held a cloth over her nose and mouth as the putrid flesh fell into ash. _What's dead should stay dead._ She stamped out the remains of the fire and gathered up her pack. They had set off down the cobbled road that would lead them back to Gilneas when the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Her hunter's instincts jangled like the ringing in her ears and she knew better than to dismiss them. Something sinister was watching them. Forsaken? Some other manner of monster? The rumors came back to the front of her mind, unbidden. _ Beasts that walked upright like men . . ._

Adrielle studied the woods behind them which was swallowed up by darkness as they pressed on. She saw nothing. Mort growled low in his throat. Adrielle stopped, her mouth going dry. There was something there, something evil, she could _feel _it.

It came at them as a dark blur; Adrielle barely got her gun up before it was upon them. She fired and missed and was bowled over by the beast's momentum. It was too close for her to reload. Her gun clattered uselessly across the paving stones. Mort was barking frantically, biting and charging and bouncing harmlessly off the beast's bulk. Adrielle's heart beat a brisk tattoo inside her chest. She fisted her hands in the coarse mane around the animal's neck. It was all she could do to keep the monster's slavering mouth at arm's length, trapped under its weight. Even then it twisted and writhed in her grip, snapping at her exposed forearms. It resembled a wolf, but it was unlike any wolf she had ever seen; no canine could move that fast. Its movements were a blur, its red eyes shining like carbuncles in the moonlight. Adrielle's arms protested from the strain of keeping it at bay. If she could only get to the dagger strapped to her thigh . . .

Mort gave her the chance. He seized the beast's rear leg in his mouth and bit down. A crunch sounded as the bone fractured. Mort worried it in his grasp and the beast twisted around with a cry of rage and pain. Adrielle grabbed the dagger from its sheath and plunged it once into the beast's chest, where a wolf's heart would be, then thrust it into the side of its neck and pulled outward, slitting its throat. It went limp with a faint gurgle. With effort, Adrielle rolled out from under it. She got heavily to her feet, giving Mort a once over. The mastiff was uninjured - the beast had focused all its attention on Adrielle.

She took stock of her own injuries. Slipping off one boot, she found her ankle swollen and hot to the touch - she had twisted it when she fell backwards. Her face, hair, and shoulders were drenched in dark, sticky blood, but most of it was not her own. She had suffered a few scratches from the beast's claws, and sometime during the scuffle it had latched on to her forearm. The teeth marks were deep and painful, but it was far from the worst case scenario: her arm wasn't broken, and it hadn't been a Forsaken who had bitten her. Adrielle shuddered - villagers who turned were shells of their former selves. The wrongness of it was sickening.

She showed the bite to Mort, grinning weakly. "Small miracles, eh, Mort?" She cleaned her wounds with a vial from her pack and bandaged up the bite as best she could. A hot bath and a meal when she returned would go a long way towards making her feel better.

With Mort's help, they limped back to Gilneas and met no more resistance. A sense of disquiet fell over them both. Not only were the Forsaken growing bolder, but the rumors of another threat in the forest had been confirmed tonight. Adrielle could already imagine the way Lieutenant Walden's mouth would turn down at the news and the tight, thin lines that would crease his forehead. Adrielle was the city's newest scout, but she already seemed destined to be the bearer of bad news.

* * *

><p>Adrielle had never been so happy to see the wrought iron gates of Gilneas City, but her relief was short-lived. The massive Greymane Gate had broken down in the Cataclysm, and the Forsaken and the wolfmen alike had overrun the Northgate Woods, although Adrielle was pleased to see they were fighting amongst themselves. Adrielle and Mort managed to sneak along the inside of the Wall and swim across the river to the Emberstone Mine before making their way south to enter the city through the Merchant Gate. She was tired, cold, wet, and hungry, and her ankle and forearm were throbbing something fierce when she approached the gate.<p>

"Halt! State your business!" one of the guards bellowed, and Adrielle knew without looking there was more than one crossbow trained on her. She had barely opened her mouth when another, more familiar voice cried out.

"Hold your fire! That is Adrielle Hadley! Open the gate!"

Her brain foggy with fatigue and pain, she stumbled over the threshold and into Lieutenant Walden's arms.

"I've got you, Hadley," he said, holding her by the elbows and leading her into the base of the guard turret as the gates slammed shut. "What happened out there?"

"Got attacked," Adrielle said weakly. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees up and settling her head in her hands. She grabbed his sleeve, her pale green eyes snapping open. "Lieutenant! The rumors, they're true, the city is in grave danger -"

He cut her off. "I know," he said heavily. "The city was ambushed hours ago."

"Ambushed?" she asked, fearing the worst. "By the wolf men?"

Lieutenant Walden nodded grimly. "They're called worgens," he said. "Cursed men, turned into beasts."

Adrielle's stomach roiled, and she swatted the lieutenant away before vomiting to the side. His face was impassive. "There's a healer in the square. Just an apprentice, but he's all we've got up here. He might be able to do something to get you up and about. We need all hands on deck for this one." Adrielle nodded gratefully as he left. Mort whined and laid down with his rump touching her thigh, his tail wagging idly.

Lieutenant Walden returned with a pale, gangly dark-haired boy near Adrielle's age. Her face lit up. "Cole!" she cried, and he broke into a toothy smile.

"Adrielle! I feared the worst when you hadn't returned," he said, squeezing her hand. His grey eyes flicked to the bloodied bandage on her forearm. "What-?"

"Do your duty, healer," the lieutenant barked. "There will be plenty of time for heartwarming reunions when this is all over."

"Yes, sir," Cole said, but Walden had already left the tower.

"You're quite pale," Adrielle said.

"You don't look so great yourself," Cole shot back, but smiled all the same as he checked her over for injuries. "I can fix the ankle, but this wound on your arm will be tricky. I can stop the bleeding and make it scab over, but it will probably still hurt like the dickens until it heals on its own."

Adrielle nodded. "Just do it."

Cole's healing magic was cool and warm at the same time, almost uncomfortably so, as it swirled around her ankle, but when its glow had subsided she could support her weight without pain. True to his word, the bite on her forearm still ached, though the nausea had subsided, and Adrielle had struggled through worse. Even her fatigue had lessened somewhat.

They emerged from the tower together, met with a scene of horror. Lieutenant Walden and his guards lay slain in front of the gate. The scent of blood hung thick and pungent in the air, the cobblestones drenched with it. Cole's eyes were wide.

"Light preserve us," Adrielle breathed.

"They didn't even have a chance to draw their swords," Cole said, and Adrielle nodded grimly. She had seen firsthand how fast the worgen could be. She took a deep breath, turning away from Walden's lifeless body. She hadn't known him well, having only just accepted the scouting assignment a few weeks prior, but he had been a good man and a good commander.

"Come on," Cole said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "The Prince is in the square directing the evacuation. He'll tell you where to report."

"Shouldn't we do something? Administer last rites?"

Cole shook his head sadly. "Leave them. There will be time for last rites when this is done."

They hurried along the side alley into the Merchant District. Mort padded along behind them, his tail low between his legs. Adrielle spotted Prince Liam Greymane immediately - he cut an impressive silhouette against the sky, which was just turning greenish-gold with the dawn.

Adrielle turned and embraced Cole tightly.

"Thank you," she said, pulling away. She felt sharper now. "Wait - what about your brother? And Rhys?"

"Jonas is fine," Cole assured her. "He and I were able to get our parents and sister to a safe house. I came back to help Sister Almyra with the wounded. Jonas reported for city guard duty - they're taking all citizens who can wield a sword, or even a pitchfork at this point." He paused. "I haven't seen Rhys, though, not since the ambush. Not that I've cared to look."

Adrielle sighed. "I know you haven't forgiven him for the rebellion, but I have."

Cole frowned. "He turned on his king, and on you, the first chance he got. Of course I haven't forgiven him."

"Even the king has forgiven Crowley. You could extend Rhys the same courtesy," she said firmly. Adrielle shrugged. "Besides, I love him. That should be enough."

"He doesn't deserve it," said Cole flatly, but he backed off. "I hope Jonas is still alive."

Adrielle heard her own worry echoed in Cole's voice. "Your brother's an excellent swordsman," she said. "I'm sure he'll be alright."

"Thanks, Adrielle. Your boy Rhys is tough, too." They were empty assurances, words that they both needed to hear in order to carry on, and they both knew it.

"Cole!" she said, catching his sleeve. "I _will_ see you again."

Cole gave her a smile. "Take care of yourself." He walked back into the square.

Adrielle took a deep breath and approached the prince. "Pardon me, Sire," she said. "Adrielle Hadley, reporting for duty."

He barely glanced at her. "Volunteers for city guard need to speak with Lieutenant Walden at the Merchant Gate," he said.

"The Lieutenant is dead," she said.

Liam Greymane heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Light have mercy upon us. You look capable enough," he said, eyeing her rifle and mastiff. "Head down to the Military District. Someone should have a use for you there." She was clearly dismissed.

Adrielle found Gwen Armstead by the stairs into the lower city. She had once been the city's farrier; Adrielle's father had kept horses and he swore by Armstead Tack & Shoes. Adrielle supposed all of Gwen's goods were either destroyed or abandoned in the Merchant Square now.

"Oy! You Adrielle Hadley?"

"Who's asking?" she said.

Gwen jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Huntsman Blake. Asked me to keep an eye out for you."

Adrielle's heart leapt. "Blake? As in, Jameson Blake?"

"_As in,_ the whiskey-swilling, purple-wearing, rifle-toting fool and his bad-tempered mongrel," Gwen said. Adrielle winced. She had forgotten about the ill-fated relationship between her mentor and the farrier - their sensational break-up had fueled the city gossip mill for weeks. Adrielle muttered her thanks and hurried to find the man in question.

Here the sounds of combat were much more pronounced. If the Merchant District had been home to isolated skirmishes, the Military District was a battlefield. Keeping to the shadows, she found worgens and guards battling in the streets. Mages rained fire from the sky, and priests of the Cathedral were healing the wounded behind crates while guards defended them feet away.

Blake was easy to spot, as usual. He was perched on top of a crate, dressed in his usual brown coat, top hat, and outrageous purple cape, a blade of wheat clenched between his teeth. A mastiff, beefier and greyer around the muzzle than Mort, sat stoically next to the crate. To anyone who didn't know him, Blake might have seemed at ease - his shoulders relaxed, his rifle hanging by his side in a loose grip. But Adrielle had been training and hunting with him for far too long not to notice him bouncing on the balls of his feet or that the wrinkles around his grey eyes were more pronounced.

Blake was terrified. The realization sent a chill through Adrielle like she was drowning in ice water. At that moment, Blake spotted her and with a _whoop_ he hopped off his crate and folded her into a tight hug.

"Light, I thought you was a goner for sure!" he said, laughing into her shoulder. "Shoulda known it would take more than a few wolf mutts to take out my protègé!"

When he pulled back to look her over, it did not escape her notice that his worried expression from a moment ago was all but gone. Blake lightly touched the bandage on her arm and frowned.

"Eh, what's this?"

Adrielle pulled her arm away and yanked her sleeve down to cover it. "Nothing that won't heal once this is over," she said, scratching it absently. Despite Cole's soothing magic, it was throbbing and itching more fiercely than ever, and it burned like a tongue of flame up her arm and through her shoulder.

Blake didn't look convinced, but he let it go. The troubled wrinkles around his eyes were back.

"So what happened? How did they get into the city?"

"Oh ho, that _is_ the question, innit? Some say they're in cahoots with the Scourge. Codswallop. Forsaken work with no one. Haven't got the brains for it." Adrielle snorted a laugh, and Blake grinned.

"They're killing each other in the Northgate Woods," she said. "So I'd wager you're right."

"Doesn't matter how they got in now. All that matters is stopping them. There are more worgen in the city than there are out there now." Blake gestured towards the wall around the city. "The King's up ahead directing the guard. Rumor has it he's trying to track down Crowley."

"_Crowley? _ Lord Darius Crowley? What the hell for?"

"The one and only," said Blake darkly. "No one seems to know why. I'd say he's getting desperate."

Adrielle's stomach clenched, and she wasn't entirely sure if it was from the troublesome wound on her arm, or the unwelcome news that her king was seeking help from a man who had tried to usurp his throne in far too recent memory.

"Who am I to question the king?" Adrielle said with a shrug. "If I could find Rhys in all this chaos, he might know where Crowley's hiding out. With all that rooftop-hopping and sewer-crawling he does, running with all sorts of unsavory people, he's bound to have an ear on Crowley's location."

"If you can find him," Blake said grimly. "A lad like him has probably high-tailed it out of town by now."

Adrielle hated to agree, but Blake was right. Rhys wasn't the type to risk his own skin for strangers, not when the chances of getting out of this fight alive were slim to none. Gilneas must be in dire straits indeed. That did not sit well at all for Adrielle. Even if she made it out of this mess alive, Gilneas would not be the city she remembered. She frowned and scratched idly at the bandages wrapped around her forearm.

The deep bellow of a horn brought their attention to the rooftops. Worgen leapt from building to building, their claws sending broken slate tiles tumbling into the streets below. Running the length of the walls between parapets, men shouted to each other. Rifle blasts rent the air, and the sharp familiar tang of saltpeter stung Adrielle's nostrils. She could almost taste it.

The call to arms brought citizens and guards like racing down the alleys to climb the guard towers. Adrielle pointed.

"Found Crowley," she said grimly. The traitor cut an impressive silhouette against the moon.

Blake followed her gaze, and his heart sank. "Found yer boy, too," he said.

Indeed, the familiar red head stood shoulder to shoulder with the traitor. Adrielle started forward, but Blake caught her by her cloak and yanked her back.

"Are you daft? You'll be picked off in a heartbeat up there!"

Adrielle fisted a hand in the fabric of her cloak and pulled it from his grasp. "I've got to do something. I can't let him do this alone." She snapped her fingers and Mort trotted alongside her.

Blake spat out the wheat he had been chewing and picked up the rifle propped next to him. "Then I'm right behind you. C'mon, Baron. We've got some wolf huntin' to do."


End file.
